


Pirates of the Caribbean: The Revenants

by ShahbanouScheherazade



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies), Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest (2006)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 09:18:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1382155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShahbanouScheherazade/pseuds/ShahbanouScheherazade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Norrington ordered his men to sail through a hurricane in pursuit of the Black Pearl, but now the wreck of his ship and the deaths of his men weigh heavily upon him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pirates of the Caribbean: The Revenants

_"God save us!"_

The sudden cry jolted Norrington awake in the darkness, ringing in his ears. He lay still for a few moments, his heart pounding violently, his clammy palms clutching the bed sheet. Each beat of his heart was a lingering stab of pain in the centre of his chest, but gradually he took slower breaths and recollected himself. Midshipman Evans' desperate words were only an echo from the past. A dream that continued to haunt him. The hurricane had happened months ago. All that remained were the nightmares.

Norrington tried to calm himself, wiping the sweat from his forehead. The nightmare always brought flashes of memory, as fresh as if it all had happened yesterday. The deteriorating weather, the leaden skies, the seas boiling like a cauldron of foam and spindrift.

And the faces of his men. The drowned.

How slowly the ship had sunk, despite the hurricane's intensity! He had finally ordered the remaining men to abandon ship, and when she was foundering with three feet of water swirling over her deck, he had been the last one to go. Clutching a line, he'd been pulled through the rough seas until he was hauled, half-drowned himself, over the gunwale of the boat to join Lieutenant Hingston, Midshipman Moore, and one other. Four, including himself – in a boat that should have held twelve men easily. 

He remembered his own horror when he realised why the boats were more than half empty. It was because so few men were left alive.

The winds of the storm flung the boats away from each other and they disappeared over the tops of waves so high they might have been hills. One moment he could catch a glimpse of one or two of them as the ocean drove his own boat up the side of a swell, but in the next instant it would be hurled back down into a valley, facing a towering wall of waves, and he would lose sight of the others. Eventually the inevitable moment came when, though the sea lifted his boat to the peak of the highest wave, he could no longer see the others at all.

Norrington groped about the floor in the darkness for the bottle at the side of his bed. After several attempts, his fingers touched its cool, glassy surface. It had tipped over and was empty. He exhaled heavily and closed his eyes, but his restless mind gave him no peace from his memories.

He pictured the dreadful hours that followed the wreck. The storm's aftermath had claimed more victims, just as a dying serpent may still inflict a fatal bite. The man whose name Norrington did not know had fallen out of the boat and never surfaced again. Moore had been badly wounded, and died the next morning as a cold sun began to spread its light across the empty grey waters.

Even now, lying motionless on the mattress, Norrington could imagine that his bed was rocking just as the open boat had done. The sensation lulled him, drawing him back into his dream.

He was back in the creaking boat, trying to reason with Hingston who had become maddened by the conviction that his brother was waving and calling to him. Despite his efforts to restrain the young officer, Hingston fought like a devil and climbed out of the boat, to be taken by the sea.

The dream ended as it always did, with Norrington alone, drifting on the ancient sea of Homer's poem. The horror of this solitude was such that he woke again in the darkness with a loud cry.

For a moment his surroundings confounded him. Where was he? How had he come there? Then he remembered.

Gibraltar. The naval infirmary.

And none of it mattered. The essential truth was this: he had given the orders to sail through the hurricane, blindly chasing the _Black Pearl_ , and his men had obeyed, even though they knew it meant death. It was therefore his fault, and his punishment was to be left alive, penitent for the rest of his life.

Their faces crowded around him in the dark... Caleb, Moore, Hobb, Evans, Hingston, Lowell, Burns, others... so many others. Young officers, penniless sailors – all of them gone.

Brave men, good lads, all.

His wakening cry must have been louder than he thought, for now the door cracked open and someone looked in to see what was the matter. He recognized Polly, one of the women who cleaned the ward and sometimes serviced the soldiers who were fit enough for such things. She was a woman of the sort he normally viewed with distaste, but she had a kind nature which inclined her to worry over him.

"D' ye need anything, dear?" she asked, sounding concerned. He closed his eyes and groaned, the faces crowding together in his mind.

"What is it, love?" Polly persisted. "Tell Poll what you want."

What did he want? To undo everything, to mend the harm he had done. Failing that, perhaps oblivion, never to remember. He turned his head, hoping she could not see the quick spasm of grief that passed over his face. He mumbled something.

"What did you say, love?" she asked, leaning closer. "What did you want?"

He put his hands to his face, and answered her. "Forgiveness."

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> To My Readers: Thank you so much for your kudos and comments. It means a lot to me when I hear your feedback, and I wanted to let you know how much I appreciate your support!
> 
> Disclaimer: I have no claim on any part of Pirates of the Caribbean. Original plots and characters are owned by me.


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